No I promise I’ve NEVER said any of those things. Instead I always say things like,

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” and, “Oh well, maybe later then.”

Let me tell you a short story. Woman meets man. Woman goes out with man for some weeks, and they eye each other up greedily. HOWEVER, Man says he doesn’t want to jump into bed too soon. Woman thinks, ahhh, how sensitive! (and ‘come ON though, my uterus is aching. Isn’t this sort of thing supposed to cause blood clots?’). On the sixth date (is that a magic number) Man and Woman end up in bed. At the crucial moment, Woman pauses to seek advice about protection. Man suddenly loses it. Woman acts casual, kind and unconcerned – but to no avail. Man disappears, never to be seen again.

So what IS the right thing for a woman to say when a man finds himself unable to do his thing?

More importantly, what’s the right thing for the MAN to say. Here are some suggestions.

No need to look at the mantelpiece when you’re poking the fire – oops, I looked!

Sorry, the mind is willing but the flesh wants to get the hell out of here!

No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be in bad taste. Did I tell you you must be the best looking girl in this place? No?

So what’s a nice girl like you…

You’ve heard that line before?

Oh, sorry. So what do you do?

What do I do?

I’m rich. Actually I can’t tell you exactly what I do because it’s secret – classified work, you know what I mean. But I do own a Porsche. And, yeah, I’m travelling for work. It’s so boring being a senior manager – you get so sick of all the pressure. People bothering you for decisions, decisions – and you work fourteen hour days, never get to see your family – not that I have a family – never get to go out and just have a good time, let your hair down…

Yeah, well, alright, I’m out now, but usually – god you’re a goodlooking woman. Care for a drink?

Uh huh. Cocktails make you drunk quicker, you know. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a beer? No? Right, an Orgasm thanks and – how much is that? Uh, right.

So, um, tell me about yourself.

An intelligent woman! I like an intelligent woman. I like a woman who is capable of understanding me, really understanding me, having a real conversation, you know what I mean? So..do you mind if I ask you how old you are?

You’re kidding? I would have guessed you were twenty-five at the absolute outside! You certainly look pretty good for your age..

Yeah. Well, like I was saying, my work is classified, really, but I can tell you a bit about it, since you’re a friend of mine now. We work on decoding satellite data for NATO, you’d be fascinated to hear the little things we find out…I mean those Iranians get up to things you wouldn’t believe, in a Moslem country..

A woman like you, I suppose you’ve got lots of boyfriends…

No?

Yeah, I’m divorced. My wife is..I mean she was a bit of a ballbreaker. Executive type. I mean I love intelligent women but there’s got to be some softness there, don’t you think? Femininity…

Relationships? I love women and leave them – until now, that is. Until I met you! I mean, they’re always trying to pin you down, leaving their shit at your flat, wanting to buy furniture together…I never date a woman who lives nearby, she’d always be calling round to see what you’re up to…women tend to pursue me, you know what I mean?

Sure, all that’s changed now. I’m a reformed man. I just came to this place for a quiet drink, anyway. I wasn’t thinking about sex, I mean women, at all – but then I saw you and I was just bowled over..

Oh yeah, I love dancing, but I get this pain in my leg….old war wound, from Vietnam, I mean Bosnia

Sure, I was in Bosnia – that was when I was a war correspondent. People think it’s all drama and excitement and danger, but you get blasé about all that after a while, bullets and risk and saving lives and getting scoops and so on..

You know, we’ve been talking for – what’s it been – it seems like hours. Twenty minutes – no, it has to be longer than that. Anyway, I need to tell you, I’ve got this feeling about you. You’re something special. I look into your eyes – has anyone ever said what beautiful eyes you have – and you know what, I think I’m falling in love. I think you may be the one I’ve been waiting for all my life.

No, this is only my third drink. I can walk a straight line any time, you watch me.

I don’t usually do this, but would you consider coming out with me? I mean, we could go to the movies, the theatre…I’d just love to take you out to dinner, somewhere special, somewhere really expensive…

Let’s go out and take a walk. Look at the stars. I love nature, don’t you? Where’d you say you parked your car?

Do you mind if I hold your hand? No? I love liberated women, they’re so sexy. So…liberated! Some women are afraid of their sexuality, don’t you find? But you’re so lusty, so assertive…I find it devastatingly attractive…

No, let’s go in your car. Mine’s….in the garage being fixed. I mean, having a new cocktail cabinet fitted and an in-car tv.

You want to do what?

Uh, yeah.

You’re into…come again?

I mean, I’m really glad you’ve got a healthy sense of your own sexuality, it’s really great but…did I hear you right?

Oh, fuck, that was a near one! Mate, I may be open minded, but I don’t go that low…if she wants to talk about post-structuralist modern art and Jungian theories of identity – phew – she’d better get one of those..gigolos or whatever – I’m not into that kind of kinky stuff, man…Fuck me

WARNING: MAY CONTAIN SEXIST HUMOUR. DO NOT READ IF THAT KIND OF THING BOTHERS YOU, ALRIGHT?

Me and Darla, the Gypsy Temptress of Oh I Do Blather on a bit don’t I fame, have hatched an ingenious plan. We”re going to create the rules and regulations for our own little paradise – a women’s community, where men (and women, sorry Darla, because not ALL women are as nice as you) are only admitted by invitation and at our behest.

Yes, it’s a wee bit sexist…but at least WE’LL get a laugh out of it! Plus, we are currently trying to think of a suitable title for an award that we can palm off on other women bloggers we want to invite to paradise. Yes, YOU TOO can come to Harlot’s Heaven, Goddess Gate, The Land of Ladies, or perhaps the Royal Women’s Institute for the Training and Correction of the Other Lot…and make up your own Rules, if you want to! You can even bring your husband, as long as you keep him on a lead and pick up his little accidents (ok I said it was sexist, alright?).

Darla’s Version of Feminine Fantasia will be along shortly but here’s mine – just to prod her along! I dunno, she seems to spend so much time LIVING that she forgets about BLOGGING! Honestly!

So here goes!!!!ROSE’S RANCH!

Out the back at Rose’s Ranch

DO YOU….

Like men in the bedroom but not in the boardroom?

Ever wished you could have a full set of tools for every emergency, instead of having to choose between a screwdriver and an allen key?

Ever wanted to live in a society where YOU call the shots and he does the dishes?

Ever wondered how much better life could be if only THEY did what they were told!

Welcome to Rose’s Fantasy Ranch, where men are men and there’s plenty to go around. And the best thing about it is, if MY fantasy’s not YOUR fantasy, that’s just fine – this place caters to EVERYBODY’s dreams. Register yours now (dream that is) and take that first step towards the fulfilment of all your secret sexist longings!

On Rose’s Ranch:

There are at least three men for every woman. Those who don’t want that many can donate to other women who want more. Personally, I think five’s a good number.

Variety is the key. We have the traditional beefcake, but we also have witty conversationalists, big brains, those happy sort of guys whose smile just cheers you up straight away, men who are just the dreamiest dancers, and men who fix stuff. Oh yeah, and FOREIGN men, with accents. Sorry, I just have a thing for them.

You have to be forty or over to get in. Sorry girls, you’ve got enough on your hands already.

Women sit at the head of the table. Men are allowed to throw their weight around only if it turns their partner on.

The first Sunday of every month is Swap Meet. Nothing sleazy. One woman’s trash may be another woman’s treasure, you never know!
All the men are on the male contraceptive pill, which will be especially invented for the grand opening of the Ranch. The ranch is STD free, so the only reason to involve condoms is if they’re studded, ribbed or light up in the dark.

At night, all public areas will be lit by either candelight or that soft pink light that makes you look about twenty years younger.
There are no gyms on Rose’s ranch. There is a lovely swimming spot though with a sandy beach. Nude bathing is just fine. So are those swimsuits that come down over your knees. Whatever.

If you fall in love and want to stay with a guy forever, he has to pass an extensive examination by a jury of your peers on his suitability for a serious relationship. They will examine important things like whether he ever cooks you dinner, how much time he spends whingeing, and whether he’s ever looked up another woman’s skirt. If the jury blackballs him, you can still keep him, but he has to wear a red bowtie, which will make him look just a little bit stupid.